


PonyBuilt

by spellwing777



Category: Forgotten Realms, War Of The Spider Queen
Genre: And the booze, Did I mention sex?, Drunk Sex, M/M, PWP, Sex, all the snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellwing777/pseuds/spellwing777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the visual depiction of 'PonyBuilt', look up the cover of the Fifth book in the 'War of the Spider Queen' and gaze upon Ryld's lovely, compact muscles.</p><p>For the <i>actual</i> definition of ponybuilt, here, have a link: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ponybuilt</p>
            </blockquote>





	PonyBuilt

“What do _you_ want.”

Pharaun smirked. Ryld was faintly angry, and buzzed on that terrible duergar brandy. And dressed in a rather thin shirt, he noted with a bit of glee. He couldn’t have picked a better time to pester his friend.

Ryld narrowed his eyes at him; apparently of a very different opinion. 

“Either tell me what you want, or get out.”

“Well, I was going to invite you to a party, but I see you’ve already got one going right here.” Pharaun eyed the bottle. “Is it a private party, or can anyone join?”

Ryld studied him for a moment, and fished out another bottle from behind his chair. This was mushroom wine, thank goddess, and not that too-sweet brandy his friend was obsessed with. He accepted the gift with as much grace as possible, and sprawled indolently in a nearby chair.

“What sent you to blacken my doorstep this time?” Ryld growled.

“Do I really need a reason to visit a friend?” Pharaun smirked.

“If you plan on stealing my alcohol, yes.”

“To be truthful, Janell refused me.” He lamented dramatically, flinging an arm wide. “Apparently, I am not worthy of her attentions.”

“So you decided to commiserate with me?”

“And to steal your wine.” Pharaun took a swig, and grimaced at the taste. It was better than brandy, but not much. “Although this really isn’t worth stealing.”

“You could get your own, you know.” Ryld snapped.

“I could.”

Ryld huffed irritably, making him smirk again. He liked winding him up sometimes; made for some rather...interesting confrontations. He was rapidly adding ‘drunk’ to his horny state and he was wondering how much it might take to provoke Ryld into ravishing him. 

“-go to the black drake and get some more.”

Pharaun blinked, coming back to the conversation, recognizing the name of one of the bars Ryld frequented, but not much else. Ryld glared at him in irritation, and stalked over to him to loom over his friend.

“You came here for conversation and company, and now you aren’t even listening.” He growled, annoyed.

“Sorry.” He said, smiling and insincere as always. “Lost in thought.”

The sava master gripped the armrests of the chair, caging Pharaun with his arms and bringing their faces level so his glare was up close and personal. The mage was unimpressed, and more concerned with how the position offered a great view of his defined chest down the stretched neck hole of his worn shirt. He brought a knee up and planted it rather hard on the chair, right between Pharaun’s thighs and inches from his vulnerable groin.

“I can guess what those thoughts were.” Ryld growled.

“You presume much.” The mage smiled, as smug as ever.

He pushed the knee almost uncomfortably into Pharaun’s crotch, and he did grimace this time, but it still looked more like smirk; and Ryld made an irritated noise.

“Should we find you a whore to bed?” Ryld snorted.

“Why, when there’s one here?” 

Ryld snarled outright at that, and nudge his knee further; starting to make Pharaun uncomfortable. He squirmed, and then blatantly rubbed his groin on the sava master’s thigh. 

Ryld smirked. “Sure you aren’t the whore here?”

Pharaun grinned. He liked it when Ryld was aggressive; snapping back his own clever retorts to his barbs and being menacing. Flirting with the blatant danger in those thickly corded arms and powerful chest heated his blood in a very unique and intriguing way. Oh, he’d heard some females twittering about how grotesque that overbuilt frame was; too used to slender males that they could heft over a shoulder and drag away to their caves. Females were typically larger than their male counterparts, more powerful; and he thought that, in some ways, the undulating muscles on Ryld made them annoyed that this male was far too physically imposing to tolerate being carried around like a hapless conquest. 

Not to mention _heavy._

Pharaun traced a finger along the line of a bicep, and thought _Their loss._ Ryld smirked and stretched luxuriously, blatantly showing off, and preened slightly under the appreciative look on Pharaun’s face. His body was a product of discipline and an endless pursuit of perfection; and the look of reverent fascination on Pharaun’s face felt like a just reward. 

The mage’s eyes slid closed when he felt fingers twine into his hair at the nape, and his head was tugged to one side to expose his neck to rough lips and sharp teeth. Ryld was always forceful, so violently physical; and that always made him arch and hiss with pleasure.

The teeth scrapped along his collarbone, and sank in for a good deep bite while callused fingers tickled his chest, looking for the catches in his clothes. His hands may have been as rough and blunt as the rest of him, but they were dexterous. The catches were undone easily, and he shoved the material out of the way. More skin was bared to his lips and teeth, and he took full advantage; sucking kisses down the sternum, the nipples worried into peaks non-to-gently with flashing white teeth, and the planes of his stomach jumped with every nip.

“Stop being a tease.” His voice held a joking edge, but it came out in a gasp that undermined the mocking tone. Ryld growled at it anyway, and easily yanked his breeches off over the slender hips and attacked his shirt with equal vigor. Said hips where held down with bruising force as he was straddled, and finally Pharaun had his lap full of a fiercely grinning sava master. Ryld leaned back, openly displaying himself and putting on a small show as he stripped the worn shirt off, flexing indulgently. Pharaun made an appreciative noise, and ran his fingers down the chest, splaying his hand on the abs and watching the muscles shift under it. 

He arched his hips under him, looking for friction and Ryld obliged, grinding down hard. It was definitely a lap dance, but much, much better than the manufactured lust of Pellanistra. And much, much more aggressive. When Ryld decided he wanted him to look at his face instead of staring fervently at his undulating torso, he didn’t _tell_ him to look up. He _made_ him.

He gasped when Ryld grabbed a hold of section of his hair, wrapped it around his fist, and _pulled_. Wide eyes met narrow ones, predatory intent in that gaze.

“Get on the bed.” Ryld ordered, voice rough.

Pharaun arched an eyebrow at the tone; did he really think he could get away with acting so superior? Ryld noticed, and smirked at him.

“Either get on the bed,” He hissed. “Or get out of the room.”

He dithered, just enough to say though body language, ‘okay, I’ll go along with you. Just. This. _Once_.’ 

It also had the additional effect of annoying him, which was just a bonus.

Ryld’s presence behind him as he strode over to the bed was palpable; like a wave of heat, a searing breath on the back of his neck. He restrained himself to a luxurious amble, however, even pausing at the edge of the bed. Finally, Ryld had enough; a large hand spanned the back of his neck and grasped his nape tightly, and bent him in half over the bed. Pharaun placed his hands on the mattress, and gasped when he felt him press up to his ass, grinding obscenely.

“Half-way there already?” He chuckled.

He jerked when the other hand grabbed his crotch and squeezed almost to the point of pain. 

“I’m not the only one.” Ryld purred smugly, palming the erection.

A nudge to the back of the thigh urged him up, and he obliged quickly this time, already eager. At Ryld’s insistence, he laid on his back and spread his legs so he could kneel between them. The sava master was still wearing his loose pants, so he sat up to hook a finger into the waistband and gave it a tug.

“ _Far_ too many clothes.” Pharaun muttered, annoyed. “Off.”

He grinned, and obliged, hissing in relief when his own cock was freed. He hissed again when a hand wrapped around it and gave it a firm stroke from root to tip, but slapped away the hand before he could do it again. Pharaun pouted, but didn’t do that for long; as soon as he bent down, licking his lips, the expression changed to rapturous. He huffed out a breath as Ryld swallowed him in one stroke, nose pressing to the smooth skin of his groin, sucking hard. 

His pace was fast, and he used his teeth in the most delicate and brutal way. He ran the sharp canines carefully around the edge of the foreskin, the slid it back to tease the fragile and sensitive opening in the engorged head with the pointed tip. It was a shivery, ticklish feeling that constantly remained him there was just the thinnest border between this being pleasurable, and how quickly this could turn into pain.

Shudders rippled across his lower stomach as he nibbled on the edge of the foreskin, sucking it gently into his mouth, before letting it go. He straightened, and Pharaun groaned. Ryld only grinned at him, reaching for the lube at the bedside. He popped the cork, slicked two fingers, and rubbed the pad of a finger against his entrance. The sava master looked up at him, cocking his head.

Pharaun panted briefly, then nodded. The finger burned its way into him, and he hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain, then yelped in surprised pleasure at the finger bent and hooked into his prostate. Two more fingers followed, barely giving him a breath between them, stretching with the perfect burn that made him writhe. Ryld’s oil-slicked hand came down and wrung his cock, forcing a bead of pre-come to the surface and a moan of pleasure from the mage. He fucked him on his fingers and stroked him with the same rhythm, nearly bringing him to a peak, then suddenly withdrawing.

Pharaun glared at him, but it’s sting was considerably reduced by the glazed look in his eyes. Ryld snorted and coated his own flesh in oil, then-to the mage’s surprise-wrapped his arms around his waist, and lifted his hips up into the air. He obligingly crossed his legs behind his head and stared down his body in near-awe as the sava master impaled him while easily keeping him supported. He smiled down at him, all smug confidence as he slid in.

The mage hissed and jerked, bending at the waist as the first thrust hit his prostate dead-on with enough force to make him see pinpricks of light and set the pleasure center of his brain on fire. He flailed blindly and managed to latch onto the edge of the headboard. The second thrust made him yell and lever himself up, until he was no longer touching the mattress; instead hanging in mid-air, supported by Ryld’s arms and his grip on the headboard.

He pounded into him mercilessly, nearly bending him in half, and the only noise he could get out of his compressed lungs was short, cut off huffs of air. His dick twitched, trickling clear liquid from the tip, and he desperately wanted to reach down and stroke himself, but he couldn’t possibly manage that, not without risking losing his balance and tumbling to the side, undignified and graceless. The sava master decided to solve that problem by freeing one of his arms- _he’s using only one arm to support me, and he doesn’t even look strained, oh goddess spare me,_ -and taking him in one callused hand.

He quivered and his face pinched, and clenched around the thrusting length inside him when he came, only able to make a muffled groan. Thankfully Ryld set him down before his arms gave out; orgasm turning his muscles to water. He withdrew, and Pharaun idly stroked his softening cock as the sava master jacked himself off, grunting as he added his own cum to the white smears on the heaving chest.

They paused for while after that, swapping a bottle back and forth, before Pharaun finally got enough of muscle control to grab a wet cloth to wipe them both down.

“Now that you have had your fill;” Ryld said. “Will you finally retire to your own room? I have a limited stash of liquor and I don’t need you drinking it all.”

Pharaun huffed. “What, you don’t want the joy of my company?”

Ryld made a vague, shooing motion. It was half-hearted, and Pharaun snorted. “Fine. But I’m taking the wine with me.”

Ryld gave a lopsided smile at the mage’s back as he stormed off in a mock-huff, and rolled over to settle into a post-orgasmic nap.


End file.
